Page 33 of Candy Hearts
“Benji, you’re single, right?” Robin asked.
William’s stomach jumped.
Benji tossed a glance toward William. “R-right. Yes.”
“There you go, William. A hot, gay, single twenty-four-year-old with a very marketable skillset.” Robin grinned slowly, a cat-who-got-the-canary glint in her eyes.
“What’s my marketable skillset?” Benji asked, his voice wooden.
“Car stuff, obviously,” Robin said. “An oil change or a car detailing.”
Benji scoffed. “Changing your oil is easy. No one would bid on that.”
“Uh, I would,” William said. “I have no idea how to change the oil in my ego machine out there.”
“You could watch a YouTube video.”
William scowled. “Don’t sell yourself short.” Then William scowled deeper. He should shut up. He didn’t exactly like the idea of Benji being part of the Bach Auction, though dates weren’t expected. It was basically a romance novel waiting to happen. Benji would probably meet a cowboy billionaire there, then one thing would lead to another and there would only beone bed!
“Okay,” Benji said with a smile. “I’m in. It’s a good cause.”
“There you go, William,” Wren said. “Two bachelorians. Now you only need three. Robin, you in?”
“No.”
Everyone laughed except for Robin, who smiled archly. Her dark tan skin was sparkly along her cheekbones—highlighter, William’s brain provided helpfully, though he had no idea where he’d picked up that info—and she had on plum-colored lipstick. He’d known Robin for years, but she’d always been reserved. Some people thought she was cold, but that wasn’t true. She was commanding and watchful. The first to jump in with a telling insight or a witticism. The first to notice when something was off.
Therefore, she was the last person he expected to pull a book of Mad Libs out of her purse and say, “We did a Valentine’s Day popup shop last week, and one of our products is this book of sexy Mad Libs. The scenes were crafted by top erotica writers. Wanna play?”
The four of them had nothing better to do and could have done a lot worse in the entertainment department. At least the topic was no longer William’s love life.
Wren tried to use a close variant or synonym of spurt for every verb: splurt, squirt, splooge, emit, spray, release.
Benji was on a roll with his adjectives: meaty, slippery, forceful, potent, vigorous, virile, suckable.
Robin read each Mad Libs back to them in the driest, most serious voice.
It took William a few minutes to figure out why the Mad Libs were turning him on so much. During the last Mad Lib, he was sitting there, trying to hide his giant hard-on when Benji glanced at him shyly through his gold-tipped eyelashes and said, “Needy.” Then, “Dominating.” And lastly, “Full.”
And everything became quite clear.
Chapter Ten
Benji finally gave up and called it a night. Wren seemed to have enough energy to stay up until morning, but Benji was hoping if he set an example of going to bed, everyone else would too.
He could only say “come fuck me” via adjectives in so many ways. His brain was starting to hurt. As was his dick.
As he trudged up the stairs, Benji heard William address room logistics with Robin and Wren. Benji hoped that William would finagle it in a way that made it easy for him to sneak to the top floor. And if William did show up, Benji was going to be prepared.
Super prepared.
He took a fast shower in a pitch-black bathroom, put the garter belt and stockings back on (because, hello, he looked hot in them), brushed his teeth, made sure all the toys were clean, rescattered the rose petals, relit the candles in the room, and picked some lint off a dildo.
Still no William.
Benji opened his phone. Half-past eleven. And only five percent battery. Damn.
Benji started making deals with himself.
